


We'll Meet Again

by RuelleMonsters



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Original Work
Genre: Camp Nanowrimo, Diners, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gun Violence, Guns, Knives, Marvel 616 References, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, Marvel Universe, Movie Night, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Popcorn, Running, SHIELD, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuelleMonsters/pseuds/RuelleMonsters
Summary: A violent short story on tracking down, maiming and deframing targets and enemies.





	1. Romania to Canada

**Author's Note:**

> New story that's for camp nanowrimo, so no time to edit or beta. It's interesting anyway.

She glanced around her surroundings and looked back down to her dimmed screen. There was a message from the employer, containing a name, a time and a location. The unholy trinity for a hit.

Silently, she was patting down her tac gear covered legs she put the satellite phone away and found a small disc the size of a two pence coin. Sliding it out of her pocket she held it lightly in her palm before rising slightly over the crates of Raphael forgeries to get a glimpse of the situation she was attempting to handle. The hit was to take place in two weeks, there was nothing she could do but carry out the clean up for her current assignment.

Three men were arguing at each other, hissing in Romanian, trying to decide the best way to smuggle the forgeries to buyers and black market dealers. All of them were a mild threat, an annoyance to be dealt with, however this actual job obviously had more members than these men who hadn’t even planned how to get the merchandise around. Amateurs.

Fortunately, they weren’t particularly vigilant as they didn’t notice her flinging the disc at the middle man releasing an electrical charge, he went down, falling ungracefully. She pulled out a pistol strapped to her back and aimed it at the man with the balding head. Silencer already screwed on, the only sound was blood splattering from his skull and his body dropping to the stone ground.

The last man staggered back in horror. She rolled her eyes and stalked towards him. He was young, 30 maybe, not that his age would do him any good. Her pistol was at close range to his heart now. He begged for his life. She tilted her head to a side, but pulled the trigger anyway.

She left the bodies where they were for her employer and the local authorities to find. Digging out the phone she made a call.

“Имя?" the male baritone voice on the other end asked.

“Грейс,” she replied with her current alias.

There were sounds of typing and clicking before he replied in a strong Brooklyn accent, “Ma’am, you have an extraction scheduled at 1900 local time at the Jonathen Field, ready for mission report and debriefing as soon as you get to the secondary base in Vancouver.”

“Спасибо,” she said.

Ending the call she headed over to the first man to go down, and picked up the abandoned disc, removing any evidence that could potentially be traced back to her. The small device was tapped out from use but it could be altered to work again. Not to produce a high enough voltage to kill a person, however enough to either knock someone out for a while, or for the lucky ones, an unexpecting shock from a handshake.

The metal disc was slipped back into the pocket it came from as she made her way to the south east entrance, admiring the forgeries she passed, only looking and not touching, because there was nothing worse than getting caught on a crime you didn’t actually commit. Whoever had created the Raphaels had talent, such good fakes that even she couldn’t tell the difference if the original and one of these were put before her.

Leaving the building she headed to the safe house that held her other belongings. It was only around 4pm, meaning it was still broad daylight and her tac gear stood out in the immediate area. She needed to blend in. Her safe house was at least two miles away, an easily manageable walk but she stood out, her only option was to borrow a car.

Of course she would see to the return of the vehicle as soon as she was done with it, along with a large sum of money, or it would be taken care of by work. She picked out a dusty grey 4x4, one of two on this street alone. Pulling out a small pack of lock picks she selected her tools and worked her way opening the door to the driver’s seat. The picks went back into her tac vest, and she leaned under the steering wheel to yank down on the plastic to reveal a tangle of coloured wires. She removed one end of the thin green wire from it’s place above and pulled down forcefully on the red one, the green went in the gap the red left and after taking the end of a navy ignition wire she carefully brushed it against the red primary power one.

This lead to the engine rumbling and the dials coming to life. She secured the wires together and checked the gas, half tank, that was good, it would get her to the safe house and to the extraction point easy. Climbing into the driver’s seat she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was pale from stake outs at night and sleeping little during the day, her brunette hair was mussed from running her hand through it too much and her eyes had tinges of camo paint still on them, an all together look of exhaustion. Taking off her tac vest she put it in the passenger seat, this left her in a dark grey t-shirt, a small relief in the humid weather.

She headed northeast for all of 10 minutes before she got another call, this time from someone familiar. She got it out of her vest before answering the call, putting it on speaker and into the cup holder.

“Irina!”, Doug yelled, either in a panic or from excitement.

“What is it?” Irina replied, “You know you’re not supposed to call unless you’re dying or it’s a level 9 crisis.”

“Is that any greeting for your oldest friend in the world?” he said with a faux disappointed tone in his voice.

She rolled her eyes and said, “I’m glad to know you’re alive, now is there any actual emergency or are you just wasting my phone charge?”

There was a slight pause before Doug said, “Well, um.. Actually it’s Mel’s birthday next month and we were just wandering if you are going to be in town for it, and if you’re going to bring anyone?”  
Eventually she would be able to see into her own skull if she kept rolling her eyes so hard, even so Irina replied with, “Yes, I think I can make it, I’ll have to fit it around the Azarov job though, and no I’m not bringing anyone. I told you already, I can’t, too busy and it’s too dangerous.”

Doug made a noise before she carried on, “And you remember what happened with Steph.”

He sighed dramatically and said, “I know what happened but it happened like months ago.”

“Did you apologise to her about the Osin Incident?” Irina asked, hands leisurely on the wheel as she took in the bland surroundings.

“What do you take me for, of course I did, you know I saw her a few weeks ago, hanging outside Harry Winson...” he trailed off suggestively.

“None of my business now. Anyway I’ve got to go, I’m still on the clock, unlike you,” she said.

“All right, but we are going to talk about this later,” he replied with a grin in his voice.

“Sure we will, I’ll see you soon.”

“Stay safe and bye,” Doug said before she hung up.

The safe house was used by multiple agents, however it always stayed safe. Everyone cleaned up after themselves and left the place in a presentable state when departing. No one would want to bring the wrath of any agent down on them simply because they couldn’t keep clean. An unnecessary risk to take as it wasn’t difficult to find out who had the safe house before one another.

In reality the safe house was in an apartment building which was owned by a Portuguese woman with a teenage daughter, who wouldn’t say anything to anyone as long as her daughter was set for college and there was food on the table.

Irina arrived at the location, pulling up and parking on the curb of the other side of the street. She leaned under the steering wheel and dispatched the red and blue wire from each other before tucking them away from sight. Grabbing her tac vest she got out of the car and headed towards the door of the building. She reached into one of the many pockets of her trousers and retrieved a set of keys attached to a purple key fob that said ‘VASE’. As she opened the door the owner’s daughter came in front of her and waved.

“Hi, Grace,” the girl greeted, using Irina’s current alias.

She smiled back warmly and walked through the dingy hallways up to the safe house on the second floor. Irina got to the reinforced door and slid in the other key on the purple fob, opening to reveal a small living room. She was still in her tac gear and was grateful that the teen from downstairs didn’t say anything, the girl was probably used to a variety of agents passing through her doors. Heading to the bedroom she dropped her vest on the bed beside the duffle bag which she picked up and then walked into the bathroom opposite.

She had time to kill before getting picked up as it was only 4:40pm. She took a long comfortable shower, using up most the hot water available for the apartment, it wasn’t as if there was enough space for a bath. Irina changed into standard khaki pants and a black t-shirt, putting essentials into the upper pockets of the trousers.

Staring into the mirror as she brushed her teeth she could see that her eyes were clearer without the residual camouflage war paint around them, but the rings around her eyes were still prominent, she was still worn out from the whole week of field work without enough rest. What she desperately needed was a solid 9 hours and half a bottle of vodka.

She twisted the creaky old tap to allow cold water through to rinse her toothbrush before putting it back into her duffel bag. She sighed and ran a hand through her wet hair. Putting the bag back onto the bed she headed to the kitchen to scout out anything worth eating.

The cupboards were lined with random tinned foods, some local and some that seemed like they had been there since the safe house had started up. They ranged from tomato soup to butter beans to sardine strips. What was far too out of date and inedible she threw into the bin and it left her with few choices. She grabbed a can of what she thought might not give her food poisoning and turned on the gas, praying that a flame would come on. After pouring the can into the small pan she rummaged through the drawers, looking for cutlery and a plastic mixing spoon. Eventually the cream coloured chicken soup began to heat up and she stirred clockwise, trying to avoid burning anything or sticking to the bottom of the pan. Her culinary skills were average, enough knowledge to survive on her own and to adapt but she was no professional chef, better to leave the experimental attempts to Doug.

The soup began to bubble slowly and she found a medium sized bowl which she rinsed out before the soup went in. She filled the pan with water and left it to the side of the sink, and then went towards the living room.

There was a two seater couch facing the old bulky television, a window with lace curtains to the right and the front door of the apartment to the left. Beside the couch there was a worn wooden side table with a cheap lamp plugged into the wall socket, she put the warm soup down, it looked more appetising than it did 10 minutes ago. She took a few steps towards the telly and leaned over to see the wires behind it, everything seemed to be in order so she switched it on.

The screen burst with colour and a Romanian soap opera started, the couple were screaming at each other about an estranged son who was sitting in the corner, about which parent was going to get custody. She found the remote on one of the shelves of the table the telly was on, sitting on the lumpy sofa she put a frilly pillow on her lap and the bowl on top of that. She flipped through the available channels and settled on an old episode of a crappy medical show with voice overs in Romanian and with german subtitles. The first spoonful of soup wasn’t entirely pleasant but it was manageable and the taste began to fade away, favouring the warmth instead as the radiators didn’t do the room any justice.

She pushed her still damp hair over her shoulders. The earlier tension in handling those men had faded away. There were no strong feelings of guilt nagging her, they were bad criminals that her employer said needed to be stopped and so she stopped them. It wasn’t her only job for them though, there was always the short recon missions that generally only took a few days or the long undercover ones that weren’t particularly her favourite, it was effort to keep up an alias for so long. Sometimes it was months before she saw her friends again.

The show ended as Irina finished up with her soup. She got up, nudging the cushion to the other seat. She washed the pan and bowl methodically, domestic work was calming. Leaving the room she went to put on socks before going back to the sofa, and after another episode of the hospital programme it was almost time to leave.

At the window she pushed the curtain aside to peer over the street and to check on the car. There was nothing suspicious at hand, a few stragglers coming home from work and the odd car passing by. Satisfied she came away and went back into the bedroom. Putting on her regular combat boots she surveyed them for any blood stains, there was nothing as ‘too careful’ in her line of work. Then she stuck her hand into the duffle bag and pulled out a comfortable navy blue leather jacket which she slipped on. In civilian clothing she looked less conspicuous.  
After going to the toilet and doing some last minute checks around the apartment she gathered her belongings and left the place as she found it, slightly dusty but orderly. She closed the door on her way out and quietly went down the stairs, then giving a quick wave at the owner's daughter before leaving. The keys went into a side pocket in the duffel bag and she crossed the street to the car which was left undisturbed.

She pulled the driver’s door open and hopped in. She started the car again with the power and ignition wires and turned from the curb, going south east towards the extraction point. It was 6:15pm and Jonathen Field was only approximately 5 miles away, and on empty roads it wouldn’t take long for her to get there. She’d walk but the car gave her better cover than being out in the open. Soon the tarmac fell away turning into country roads as she got closer. Finally parking at the end of a track she got out, taking the bag with her. Then in was a short mile walk on a off road trail to get to the field.

Technically it was a privately owned small airfield that belonged to one of the more senior operatives under a pseudonym. One of the locals were paid to stay on the small farm house, which she could see on the other side of the large field, they maintained the area and made a small side profit for themselves by selling root crops.

The sun slanted as it was beginning to set and she leaned against the wooden fence waiting. She carefully scanned the immediate area but there was nothing that was an obvious concern. There were birds nesting in trees and there was the odd chirp from woodland animals: it was peaceful.

She started to get bored from waiting around but soon enough the tell tale sounds of a jet became louder. The spot in the near distance came closer and closer and finally it descended onto the grass in front of her. The birds that were quiet before flew away at the disruption. She slung the straps of the duffel bag over her shoulder and jogged towards the jet, the back of the aircraft lowered to the ground to allow her entrance. As she walked on she was hit with scents of gas and metallic tangs.The hatch closed up and and the jet took off once again. There was an agent to greet her, she looked to his badge, level 2 then.

“Agent Surikova, I’m Agent Palmer,” Palmer said to Irina offering his hand. She shook it. He pointed to the pilot, “That’s Aplin and that’s Keller,” he said gesturing to the co-pilot.

She nodded at each of them as the turned to flash grins at her.

“How has Romania been treating you?” Palmer asked standing up but holding onto a support bar. The other hand fiddling with his sleeve edge.

She pushed down on one of the seats before sitting down and said, “Okay. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

They stayed in a silence for a few minutes and were on the outskirts of Oradea when Agent Aplin said, “Better strap in, guys. It’s going to be a long flight.” He looked over to Irina, “Get some sleep before debriefing.”

Her duffel bag was at her feet and she reached in a pulled out a plastic water bottle. She took a sip as Palmer sat a couple of seats down from Keller. Two hours passed quickly and she gave up on trying to stay awake for much longer. The three agents weren’t very strong threats, they didn’t radiate danger and she could easily take them in any case. When she was almost dozing there was an incoming call coming in from Agent Aplin’s phone.

She looked over at the sudden noise and saw Aplin checking the caller ID, he glanced over to Keller who shrugged.

'Agent Aplin'

“Sir,” he said after accepting the call, he put it the phone on the console and on speaker. No room for careless flying.

'Have there been any complications?'

“No, sir,” he said and he shook his head even though whoever he was talking to couldn’t see it. She made a mental note.

'What is your ETA?'

Aplin looked at his left wrist and said, “Uh, seven and a half hours.”

The voice paused. 'And how is Agent Surikova?'

He turned around and said, “She’s fine, I think.”

'Good to know. Safe travels.' The call ended from the other end.

“What was that?” Agent Palmer asked confused. His expression spoke for all of them.

“I don’t know,” Aplin replied.

Palmer directed his focus on Irina, “You know anything?”

She shook her head and said, “Does he do that often?”

“What? Commander Goodwin? No, not that I know of. He’s too important to be dealing with drop ins for assignments,” Keller said, the first time talking directly at her instead of murmuring quietly to Aplin. It didn’t matter she heard it all anyway, the jet wasn’t exactly huge and her hearing was sharp.

They all settled back to their respective positions. This time Irina took a hair tie off her wrist and pulled her hair back into a low bun, accepting that there was still seven hours left on the flight. She leaned back and drifted off.

 

She woke when someone was shaking her shoulder gently. Normally she would go to sleep alone and wake up alone. Routines were what killed you in the this line of work but this was one thing she had stuck to, there was less risk of someone killing her in her sleep, and so there was no blame going to anyone for what happened next.

A knife was in her hand in an instant and pressed against the person’s throat. She opened her eyes. It was Keller.

“Whoa,” he said. Unprepared for an attack. Something he should work on she thought.

She brought down her knife slowly, “Sorry.”

He held his hands up defensively, making no sudden movements, “Um, it’s okay. I probably should have thought about this better, but, um, no harm, no foul. And we’ve just landed. Agent Aplin and Palmer are already off the jet.”

She nodded in response and got up, putting her duffel bag over shoulder again. Following him out Keller led her through a hangar door, they walked onto a tarmac landing strip before entering the main base of operations. At the desk she was handed a standard name badge with ‘LEVEL 8’ printed clearly, then she put her bag, shoes and jacket into a tray and walked through a metal detector. Similar to one you would find in any airport but this also performed a full body scan, retinal scan and was able to identify any weapons under skin. She passed. Taking her shoes she quickly tugged them on and threw her jacket over her arm. Looking up there was a woman in a sleek pantsuit waiting for her.

“Follow me, please,” the woman said. Her face seemed familiar.

Keller gave a quirk of his lips and turned to leave. Irina walked behind the woman silently, they weaved through corridors and hallways, passing other operatives and agents in the process.

They arrived at a door to a conference room, the woman turned to face her and said, “Go ahead.”

Irina stepped in and looked up to see Agent Belovna and Chief Executive Officer Maxwell standing at the other end of the table. Neither were in a good mood.

Irina nodded at both of them respectively, “Sir, Ma’am.”

“Sit, Surikova,” Agent Belovna said, she picked up a recording device and began debriefing.

Agent Belovna had taken a seat with Irina but Maxwell stood in his place, occasionally shifting, but watching Irina carefully. This didn’t unnerve her. She continued mechanically, pushing down the instinct to glare at him. She explained what her assignment was and what she did to complete it, telling them what decisions she made at each point and why. She was elaborating on half-truths.

When she finally got around to the situation with the three men in the warehouse she had to take care of, she skimmed on the actual details.

She sighed, leaned back and said, “They were attempting to figure out buyers when I got there. Part of the mission was to eliminate anyone afflicted with the forgeries, I had all the toys I needed from the dead drop earlier but at that point I only had a few knives left and my gun, I put the men down but secured the perimeter before entering. None of the entrances could be opened unless it was the local authorities doing so or us.”

“Good, good,” Belovna said primly, she folded her hands together, “The paintings are safe then and there should be a team down there for clean up by Sunday, everything will be bagged and tagged. And then, what happened?”

“I hotwired a car, it’s just outside Jonathen Fields, would you, uh, mind finding the owner and covering the expenses? Then I stopped by the safehouse to collect my things. When it was time I left for the extraction point at Jonathen Field. Agents Aplin, Keller and Palmer were present and we landed here approximately 0530 hours.”

Belovna nodded and clicked on the recording device. “I’ll see to the car situation. Do you have anything to add?”

“No, ma’am,” Irina said.

“Well, you’re free to go, thank you for your co-operation,” she gave a quirk of her lips and then pressed down on the intercom button, “Emma, can you come in here, please.”

The young woman from earlier opened the door. “Yes, Miss Belovna?” Emma asked.

“Please escort Agent Surikova back to reception,” she instructed.

“Yes, Miss Belovna,” Emma replied.

The girl brought her back down to the other side of reception where she had to go through similar procedures entering. When handed her things she got out her satellite phone and punched in a number. Even though she wasn’t technically meant to use the device so freely, it was only for contacting for check-ins and emergencies. Her personal phone was currently in her bedroom at her apartment.

The call was finally picked up and Irina said, “Hey, Lola.”

“Hey, ‘Rina, what’s up?” Lola asked, there were crashes in the background.

“You busy?” she asked.

“Eh, not really, why? What’s happening with you?”

“Mind picking me up? Just got back from Romania and I don’t really want to take one of the cars, they all have trackers in them.”

Lola gave a short pause before saying, “Yeah, at the Vancouver base?”

“I’m in the waiting area up front.”

“Gimme 20 minutes,” Lola said and then ended the call.

Irina sat down in one of the plastic seats, the back of her feet resting on either side of her bag. She stared at the opposite side of the wall with a display that was titled ‘We Want You!’ with an image of one of the more famous operatives posing, pointing a finger at the camera. A poster encouraging people to join.

There were more details she tried to read but she was interrupted in her thoughts when a bright orange flame can flew down from the open corridor on the floor above.

She watched as it sailed sailed forwards and crashed onto the wooden floorboards. It was a burning office trash can that was half full of papers and a brown file folder. The faint scent of smoke and fumes hit her a moment later just as someone tumbled out of the room the bin came from. The person was yelling unintelligible things back at the agent standing at the door looking exasperated and tired.

The standard guards finally jumped into action and two of them took one arm each of the man shouting angrily and lead him out of the building, forgoing all other security. Another guard came with a fire extinguisher and put out the flaming mess. The majority of the agents in the lobby could have handled the scene going on but left it, if it didn’t directly concern them most agents kept to themselves.

Irina sat quietly, watching the commotion and soon enough there was no evidence that there even was a burning wreck to begin with and the floor looked clean. The man was lead far from the building by security and procedures went on like normal.

After a few minutes Lola finally came around, her red Audi pulling up in front of the glass doors. Irina jumped into action and got to the car and opened the door smoothly and slid in.

“Sup, bitch,” Lola greeted as she stepped on the gas. She was in grey sweat pants and an oversized (Irina’s) black long sleeved top.

“Hey, Lols, how are you doing?” she asked.

Lola rolled her eyes and said, “I’m great, slightly hungover but great.”

Irina ran a hand through her hair, nodding, and then opened the glove box, she found a dark blue sharpie and a sheet of slightly crumpled lined paper. She started doodling swirls and leaves as her friend kept driving.

Then Lola fiddled with the radio controls for a while until it landed on a song they both liked, she was humming along to it before she asked, “So, you hungry?”

“I could do with some food.”

She made a sharp turn on the wheel and they took a right into a car park of a friendly diner, just in time for the early breakfast buzz. Irina didn’t question her choice just climbed out of the Audi just as Lola did and walked in together.

They grabbed a booth by the window and took a menu each from the stand they were pinned to.

“So how was Romania?” Lola asked, eyes scanning through the drinks section.

“It was okay. Sunny, classified, bloody, y’know,” she replied.

“Good, good. The eggs benedict sound nice.”

“Hmm.”

Irina cautiously examined the diner, checking the exits, looking at the people currently present and monitoring those entering and leaving.

A waitress came by and asked, “You girls ready to order?”

Lola gave an award winning smile and said, “Yeah, I’d like the Marilyn Benny with a side of french fries and an iced coffee with ice cream and a shot of caramel.”

The waitress, named Betty, finished scrawling and turned to Irina, “And you, sweetie?”

“I’ll have a grilled ham and cheese with a fruit side salad and a side of bacon, and an espresso butterscotch milkshake, please.”

That’s what she and Lola first bonded over a few years ago, their love for cold drinks at all times of the day, and their insatiable sweet teeth.

“That’ll be right out,” Betty said as she collected their menus and Irina muttered a ‘thanks’ when she handed hers over.

“Hey, so you know that guy I was seeing, James? Well, we actually decided to keep it non exclusive, like open, open,” Lola said happily, she was twisting her bird necklace about.

Irina was a little surprised, most James didn’t seem like the type of person to agree to something like that. Although she’d only met him once, and he was drunk. “Really? Are you sure? You talked to him about it thoroughly, right?” she inquired.

Irina could almost hear Lola’s eyes roll. “Of course I did, I made it very clear of my intentions and most guys run to the hills but he actually agreed. Honestly, I think he might be the one. Uh, well, eventually I mean. Not right now, I’m young and still want to have fun, and he gets that. That’s what makes us so perfect...” she trailed off dreamily but still looking enthusiastic.

Irina let her friend babble on about James, she was too tired to talk but not enough not to eat. The elderly couple in the booth behind her were already eating when they got there and the smells from their plates swamped her. Her stomach groaned and protested, not getting anything smelling that amazing from the measly canned soup in the kitchen at the safehouse.

“That sounds nice, but I’m not sure about you getting married and settling down anytime soon,” Irina commented when Lola was pausing in between her ramblings.

“Ha. Ha. I tell you now, I could get married and have kids and live in the suburbs whenever I want. Urgh, enough of me, when was the last time you were in a serious relationship?”

“I wouldn’t call what you and James have ‘serious’. And for your information, I’m not seeing anyone since Steph, you know what happened. I had to have this exact conversation with Doug earlier, not my idea of fun.”

Lola was making a faux affronted face and she retorted with, “Well, your idea of fun is a stake out in Odessa or consuming copious amounts of vodka and, or tequila.”

“To be fair that last one also applies to you.”

Lola grinned even more, it took on a scary level now. “Yup, you’re absolutely right,” she said with no hint of shame in her voice.

Betty came back with their food, looking and smelling perfect, “Eggs Benny?”

Lola was thinking on the same wavelength as Irina: she was half drooling, obviously it had been a while for her too. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said.

Betty sat the other plate down in front of Irina, then she handed the sides and cutlery out. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

They both immediately dug in, slicing up the food and shoveling it in.

“We are so coming back- ” Lola groaned, mouth full, “- to this place.”

“It’s heavenly,” Irina agreed, chewing on warm crispy bacon.

A few moments later Betty dropped off their drinks with a friendly smile. At the same time they Lola clearly liked Irina’s milkshake more because she hopped up from the red seats of the booth took a hit of their cold beverages. Lola’s eyes widened. “Gimme,” she said, she made grabbing motions with her left hand, her other was holding a fork with asparagus on. Irina swapped the positions of their drinks and tried Lola’s iced coffee. It was good, like I-would-kill good. However and pulled out two straws from the counter.

“We’re sharing,” she clarified and stuck one in each glass.

Only around 15 minutes later they finished their food, they had stopped mechanically eating to chat and share plates. By the end there was nothing left, no leftovers or scraps, the dishes were completely empty. Betty came around one last time to hand them their bill, it was relatively inexpensive for a meal that size and definitely worth coming back, Lola picked up a business card after they paid for their meals and left a hefty tip to Betty on their way out.

“God, I’m so full, it’s ridiculous. Also have you noticed how frickin’ colorful Canadian money is? Like $5 is actually blue and $10 is purple,” Lola babbled as they got back into the car.

“I’m not having this conversation with you again, you’ve lived here for a really long time, you'd think you would at least get used to the color of the currency. And you work for the CIA, shouldn’t you be used to this stuff by now?”

Lola shrugged and said, “I only commute to the states every now and then.” She turned the engine on, they left the parking lot and headed in the direction of her apartment. Then despite her vigilance and caution, Irina began dozing off, lightly napping against the headrest while Lola continued humming to the radio. Around 10 minutes later they made a left turn and reached a block of apartments, Lola pulled into her usual spot in the private parking lot and switched off the engine.

She leaned over slightly and flicked Irina’s cheek. Irina jolted awake squeaking and looked around her surroundings to find Lola grinning wildly at her.

“Jesus! Don’t do that to me,” Irina said, over playing her reaction, she rubbed her cheek and mock glared.

Lola chuckled and opened the car door, “Unable to resist, secret agent lady.”

“Unfathomable stupidity, more like,” Irina grumbled getting out as well.

“Eh,” Lola offered as she shrugged again.

They headed up to their floor and they kept nudging each other as they went, and Lola nearly knocked over a vase of lilies as large as her niece so she couldn’t really be blamed for that. Lola’s giggles could be heard from the building opposite, although the walls weren’t exactly soundproof. The breaking of the photo frame however was definitely her fault, she had shoved Irina into a violet striped wall and ended up bouncing back at her more viciously, making the frame topple over and crack. For state of the art secret assassins, they really needed to work on their balance.

Eventually, they got to the dark green door which had a printed, ‘34’, on it without smashing anything further. Instead Lola fumbled around in her pockets until she got out a different set of keys to her car one. Her apartment keys had a black and white dice hanging off the ring and a small plastic rose hooked onto that.

As soon as she swung open the door, Lola threw the keys into a glass bowl along with her pocket change. She turned to Irina and grabbed her shoulders, looking into her eyes and said seriously, “You are a weird person,” she let go and circled behind her, hand on hip, “Right, you’re in the guest bedroom as per usual and you’re cooking,” Lola pushed Irina forward, hard enough to make her stumble.

Irina caught herself, stood in all her 5’7 height and glowered at her, before racing through the living room to Lola’s bedroom in retaliation. “I’m raiding your closet,” she yelled. She jumped into Lola’s room slammed the door and turned the lock, leaving no time for her to protest.

“Hey,” Lola shouted through the door, “Take care of the shoes!”

Irina laughed but didn’t respond, she was elbows deep in Lola’s small walk-in closet. She toed off her boots and left them and the side of the door. Lola’s room was slightly neater than her closet but not by much, Irina was currently going through her supply of denim, ranging from stiff pearl white to dark skinny jeans.

Eventually Lola had settled to a quiet mumble and Irina had found a pair of blue comfy light wash boyfriend jeans. On Lola they were slightly long but they settled on Irina just above the ankles, her height had a few inches on Lola’s, who was more petite than her. She took off her cargo pants and folded them and chucked them onto a chair and pulled on the jeans. Then she moved onto the tops in the corner, picking up clothes and putting them away as she went. Looking through the t-shirts, she took out a few she liked and decided on a plain white tee. She walked over to the long stand up mirror and yanked off her shirt, it went on top of the pants on the bed.

Staring at the mirror she saw herself in a jeans and a black bra, faded stretch mark scars below her belly button from puberty and other more unnatural scars littering her torso, chest and arms. Some were small and barely unnoticeable, others stood out, shiny and harsh. She didn’t mind the stretch marks as much, they were a sign she had lived and grown but a few battle inflicted scars were difficult to look at, they weren’t the only ones, there were some on her back but she didn’t have the strength to turn to look at them.

The white t-shirt was still in her hand, she slipped it on and padded silently on the cream carpet back into the closet. Searching through the cardigans and sweaters her eyes found her hunter green cable knit sweater. A treasured favorite. Tugging the sweater from the hanger, she put it on, reveling in its comfort.

Whenever she stayed over at Lola’s she sometimes had to leave her clothes and belongings behind for a mission and her clothing usually made its way into her closet, which meant free reign when she needed a place to stay. Her other things were in a large purple box in the guest bedroom, the toiletries and random CDs were.

She left the closet, much tidier than when she first came in, and pulled off her socks putting them on top of the pile on the bed. She scooped them up and picked up the boots, she juggled them in one arm while she unlocked the door and left, walking towards the living room.

Lola was munching on popcorn from a large purple bowl in her lap while she watched entranced as the Joker gave a monologue on the television screen. Irina came in and stood to the side of the sofa. She dumped her old clothes into the frayed armchair to the left of the couch and she cleared her throat, putting a hand on her hip.

Lola turned her attention to her and whistled, “Damn, how the hell do you make simple look so good?”

Irina shrugged and with one hand on the arm of the sofa she swung up and jumped onto the seat next to her. “Well, it’s my outfit for tomorrow,” she said.

The popcorn jostled violently and pieces fell over Lola’s body and the couch. Lola gave a small gasp and exclaimed, “How could you!”

Irina rolled her eyes and stuck her hands deep in the bowl and came out with a palm full, she chucked a few pieces into her mouth. They were plain but amazing all the same. Lola just said, “Meh,” and turned back to the movie, forgiving Irina for the moving of the popcorn.

Irina watched the film for a couple of moments before reaching over and sliding a black hair tie off Lola’s wrist. Lola stayed limp, letting her take the tie, just keeping one hand continuously popping popcorn pieces into her open jaw.

Irina raked her hands through her hair and then pulled it back before twisting into a bun. She rolled up her sleeves to just above her wrists and leaned back, enjoying the casual and civilian moments.

An hour later the movie had finished Lola was gushing about it for the millionth time, she was ranting on about how Lex Luthor was an asshole, even with some good lines and how Harley and Poison Ivy was totally a thing. That was the beginning of a chain marathon of superhero films, from terrible to amazing. It took up to 15 minutes for Lola to stop babbling on about one.

12 hours, 7 giant bags of popcorn, 2 take away pizzas and an unlimited supply of flavoured water later, Irina heaved herself off the sofa and picked up her clothes from the armchair and said, “Right, I’m going to crash. See you in the morning and don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes, Mom,” Lola droned out, rolling her eyes.

Irina slipped out of the room and went back into Lola’s bedroom. Her clothes were tucked under her arm and she used the other to choose a raggedy novelty shirt, a pair of silk shorts and briefs from a small drawer that only held her underwear. She made her way into the guest room, her usual room, and quickly got changed. She went through her regular night routine, brushing her teeth and washing her face. She got to sleep quickly, even with the rest she got on the jet over she was tired enough to fall unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more or less just fluff and there's some funny bits.

The next day, the sun was shining through the thin curtains and the room was quiet. It was going to be a glorious day.

Silently she slid out of bed and lifted the cover before dropping it back down, smoothing the top from creases. She fluffed her pillow and then left for the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She completed her morning bathroom routine and then she had found her older clothes she could work out it in, in the box. Obviously Lola didn’t feel the need to borrow these clothes. A shower could wait until after what Irina had planned. After dressing she walked down the hallway to stand at Lola’s door.

At this point it was 6:08am, fairly normal for Irina, however Lola she forgot what she hated most about Irina staying over. Fortunately for Lola she had locked her door, preventing Irina bursting in, not that she couldn’t pick the lock if necessary. Unfortunately for Lola, she was still deep in the REM mode of sleeping when Irina made a fist with her right hand and began hammering on the centre of the door. 

Irina heard a yelp just before she found the tip of a knife embedded through the door. She gave a sharp laugh as she heard Lola roll out of bed and stumble her way to unlocking the door.

Lola was slouching against the doorknob and the door frame, she groaned and said, “What?”

Still grinning Irina said, “Come on, get dressed, you’re coming with me for my morning run.”

Lola rubbed her eyes of sleep, as if it would help change what she had just saw come from Irina’s lips. “What?” she repeated, “No way, I’m going back to sleep.”

She turned to close the door but Irina stuck out her arm to stop her. Lola just flopped back to bed, having no energy, and no caffeine in her, to prevent Irina entering. 

Irina headed straight for her closet and picked out a sports bra, a loose tee and a pair of running shorts. She looked down at her body. The only scars that were showing were smaller and more unnoticable ones littering her arms and legs, the larger marks were covered by her clothing. She headed back out and chucked them at Lola, the clothes landed hitting her face.

“Get changed, meet me at the front door, you have 10 minutes,” Irina said and then promptly left the room. She went back into her own room to dig around in the box of her random things to take out a watch, which doubled as a heart rate monitor and clocked her miles she would run. She put it on her left wrist and did the clasp, and after setting an alarm for 8 minutes time she went to the kitchen. 

Opening up a cupboard she took out two plastic bottles and went over to the tap to fill with water. While waiting she tied her hair into a ponytail and soon enough Lola trudged out of her room as slow as a fussy toddler heading for bath time. 

Irina threw the red bottle at her and she lifted a hand to reluctantly catch.

“God, why are you so fucking energetic every morning?” Lola asked grumpily, she rolled her shoulders as she stood beside Irina. 

“I’m normally a morning person, Lols, you know that,” she replied, “Now start stretching.” 

The alarm on her wrist watch decided to start beeping at that point, making it clear to Lola she was for once early. “I can’t believe you actually fucking timed me.”

Irina shrugged and pulled one arm across her chest, loosening up. Lola copied her movements and took a swing of the water. 

“I’ll run with you, but only if we go get bacon after,” Lola bargained.

“You do realise one of the main reasons for dragging you with me is because of all the junk from yesterday, right? I’m not sure bacon is the best way to go, but fine, we can if we get through 5 miles,” Irina offered back.

“Fuck,” Lola swore, “Okay, fine.” She finished stretching and jumped back into her room to grab her ipod and earphones.

“Ready?” Irina asked, she opened the door.

“Yeah, let’s do this shit,” Lola replied and grabbed her keys, she locked the door and they walked down to the street.

Lola looked around and said, “You got a route?”

“Yeah, follow me,” Irina started a light jog on a street path. “You better work, bitch,” she said, smirking.

“God, you’re terrible,” Lola groused, but quickly jumped after her.

They paced themselves, slowly getting into a run. They had their earbuds in and were focused on the work out, and at their 4th mile they rounded into a public park. There were other joggers in the area, running on their own or in pairs like Lola and Irina, and at that point, halfway into the park, Lola spotted someone.

She squeaked, pulled out her earphones and let them dangle around her neck before punching Irina on her upper arm. Hard.

“Ah! God, what?” Irina asked, slowing down to a stop, rubbing her arm. Lola didn’t reply but instead pulled her aside, next to a bench with the cover of trees. “What did you see?” she asked.

“Oh, my god,” Lola stage whispered, “It’s my ex before last and his actual crazy girlfriend!”

“What’s the problem?” Irina asked, a little irritated, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is,” she said, “It is a very big deal. Might not be to you because you can probably break his neck with your thighs, but I’m more tech support with a side of field work. And he’s going to fucking recognise me.”

“No, he’s not, you’re just overreacting, he might not even remember you, how long ago was this a thing for?”

“Uh… I don’t know, like three years ago?” Lola replied, as she kept an eye on the person she used to date, she looked antsy.

“Oh, come on,” Irina said, “He’s not going to recognise you. Fine, here’s what’s going to happen: we run, like sprint the next mile out of this park and then we go for bacon, Да?”

“Okay, let’s do this,” Lola said quickly just before gripping onto Irina and taking off in the direction they were going.

They ran quickly but when Lola turned her head to her left she caught her ex staring back. “Fuck! He saw me, my life is ruined,” she wailed.

Still sprinting Irina pinched her back in retaliation. “Pull yourself together woman, you are a super secret boss lady,” she said, quoting Lola describing herself a few months back.

“Argh! Okay, yes, I am. And I will totally not fuck this up,” Lola half yelled with more confidence. 

After a minute they came across a small hole in the wall diner, the door painted in a dull gold. Dripping with sweat, Lola wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and used the other to push the on the handle. The bell dinged and the waitress at the counter holding a pot coffee, she flashed a smile and approached them.

“Hi, guys! Take a seat, I’ll be right with you,” still smiling the waitress picked up two menus swanned over.

Irina and Lola took a round table in the corner of the room. Lola immediately grabbed a napkin out of the metal stand and started dabbing sweat from her forehead and on the back of her neck. She threw herself into a metal chair. It made a loud screeching noise across the floor. Irina rolled her eyes again and sat opposite her as the waitress came over. 

“Well, here you are,” she said handing them the menus, “What sort of thing are you thinking of having, dears?”

Lola answered straight away, “I’ll have a glass of ice water, an iced vanilla latte and a breakfast wrap with a side of bacon.”

Irina huffed out a laugh. She felt happy the moment though. “I’ll have an iced peach lemon green tea and waffles with blueberries and a muffin please.”

The waitress finished jotting down the order on her notepad and leaned back on the balls of her feet. “I’ll have that to you in a couple of minutes, all right, girls?” she asked brightly.

“Yes, thank you,” Irina said, smiling politely and the waitress walked away, bouncing.

Irina looked back to Lola who was still mopping up sweat, this time from her armpits. She sighed and said, “You gotta get out more, Lols.”

Lola blinked at her. “I do not, thank you very much,” she said, her words were as if she was offended but she was smiling playfully, “ I go out all the time, dude.”

“Last time you went to a club or something?”

“3 weeks ago.”

“Okay, sure. It could be worse.”

Lola glared, “Just because you have missions all the time doesn’t mean you’re not just as bad as me. The first time you have like 5 days off, and you spend them with me: running! Oh, and movie binging. But that doesn’t really help either of our cases.”

“Yeah, well, we should do something tomorrow then,” Irina suggested. She felt like they needed to enjoy their lives a bit more, less of the killing and more of the living. “We could go to that bar opening up. I think it’s called Beyond, or something hip like that,” she finished with.

“Yes! Oh, my god, what is up with you? You are totally not yourself: bars? Clubs?” Lola couldn’t be grinning harder, her cute dimples were showing and she was fiddling with a brown sugar packet. 

Irina looked at her, waiting for an answer. “Yes, you dummy, of course we are going to go out. Jeez, who do you think you’re talking to,” Lola said. Irina stared up to the patterned ceiling, half shaking her head.

The food came in time, the other customers quietly minding their own business. Afterwards they sat for a minute, taking a breather from eating so intensely, Lola did at least. Irina, in Lola’s eyes, had eaten like a regular human being, but she probably wanted to blend in, spy stuff. It wasn’t like Lola couldn’t chow down food normally, but exercise on an empty stomach needed to be fixed. And, honestly, who cares about normal? 

Eventually their plates were cleared and Irina was standing, leaning against the wall, watching Lola clumsily get up and tuck her chair in. Irina undid a a zip to a pocket in her shorts and fished out a small wad of money. Lola reached into her left trainer. She took out a $20 bill and handed it over to Irina, who shrugged but took it. They paid quickly and left before anything could go wrong, namely Lola tripping and falling over. 

They stood outside the diner for a moment as Irina said, “Right, so plan of action: we walk back to your apartment, avoiding the park, get changed, get groceries and do shopping and do dinner,”

“Sounds great, bro, but don’t talk about my ex or food,” Lola agreed, she groaned a little and said, “I’m too full. Oh, now we have to walk like 6 miles back. Urgh.”

Irina looked to Lola’s hands, “You got your bottle?”

“Ah, shit,” Lola said before darting lightning fast back into the diner. She flew out the door and said, “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Irina laughed but started on the street on their left. Lola pulled out her phone and opened up her maps.

“Really? You don’t know your way home from here? It’s not even far,” Irina said mock exasperatedly, nudging Lola in her arm with her elbow. Lola was too busy trying to find the fastest route to the apartment to respond. 

“Got it,” Lola said, pointing to her screen. 

“I could have told you that,” Irina said, scanning the course.

“I know, but you know me: tech is me,” Lola stated. The long walk back was slow but it loosened Lola’s tense muscles, and by the time they reached her apartment front door she was exhausted.

“Okay, I’m going to hit the showers, you do you,” Lola garbled out after opening the front door.

“Sure thing, Lols. Give me a shout when you’re done because I seriously need a wash too,” Irina said, watching Lola sludge off to the bathroom. Irina picked up Lola’s water bottle, along with hers and went over to the sink, she washed and rinsed them out before letting them rest on the metal drying rack.

In time the door to the bathroom opened and Lola appeared, with a towel wrapped around her body. She turned to Irina’s direction and said, “Hey, ‘Rina, I’m done now. And I do actually feel more refreshed and bouncy, although I’m not going running ‘til like next month. I’ve met my quota. Urgh, I’m gonna change.”

“Yeah, just wear something comfortable,” Irina advised Lola as she stood up from the sofa, and Lola slinked back to the master bedroom. Irina stopped by her room to grab the outfit she had planned from the day before and then headed to the bathroom, her hands full.

She took a shorter shower than Lola but still taking her time she washed off her sweat and dirts from the run.

After slipping into her outfit she chose from yesterday, she grabbed some jewellery and went back into the living room to find Lola. She was fixing on silver stud earrings when she saw Lola lounging on the sofa with a hardback book.

“Hey, I’m done, what are you reading?” Irina asked, she pushed Lola’s feet off the sofa and sat down next to her as she answered. 

“It’s the third Hunger Games,” Lola said, putting her feet on Irina’s lap.

“Is it good?” she asked, not having read these novels.

“Yes, of course, you idiot,” Lola replied, “why haven’t you read them yet? These books are bloody awesome.”

“I read. Probably more than you, but they’re all older books. Classics,” Irina said, she took a look at the stack of books under the coffee table. She picked up an Oscar Wilde and read the synopsis. After deciding it was worth a go she turned to the last page. 

All before Lola looked up to see what Irina was doing, and gave a strangled shout. “No! What are you doing?!” she screeched. She held her hardback in her hands, a finger caught between the pages she was reading and lifted it up. And brought it down hard on Irina’s hands, smacking her book away.

“Ah! What? What did I do?” Irina questioned, shaking her right hand in the air while her left picked up the book from the carpeted floor. She rubbed her hand while glaring at Lola, non-threateningly.

“You can’t do that,” Lola explained, “You can not simply read the last page of a book without reading the rest. There is a reason why it’s called ‘page 1’ and ‘page 435’, okay?”

Irina just nodded along, not feeling like being hit with the Hunger Games again. It wouldn’t really do much damage to her but books on knuckles isn’t generally a good idea. Instead of complaining she opened the book to the first page and waved it in Lola’s face to show her clearly what she was doing. Lola nodded approvingly. 

They read for the next few hours, only getting up for snacks and toilet breaks, it was what Lola would call ‘fun’. Irina, on the other hand, didn’t hate it but didn’t love it, reading was just something to pass time and so when she checked her watch and it was around 1pm, she closed her book and stood up. Lola looked up from her page as Irina stretched like a cat waking from a long sleep. Irina found a bookmark, stuck it in the Hunger Games and put it back under the coffee table.

Rolling her head around she groaned and said, “Come on, we’ve got to get changed.”

She looked down at Lola who was dozing into her book. Irina grabbed a cushion off the couch and flung it lightly at her general direction. 

“What? What, I’m awake,” Lola said, startled up. “I can’t be bothered. Cry.” She extended an arm, which Irina took and helped lugg her up.

They trudged into Lola’s walk-in closet and sorted through the mess until discovering hidden treasures under the buried piles of clothing. 

Finishing up Lola stood in front of the mirror and asked, “Does my butt look big in this?”

“Stop twisting around. Your butt is awful, but no one is going to notice,” Irina said, pulling on a worn leather jacket. She threw a stylish grey blazer at Lola when she saw that she was about to start protesting.

“Whatever, let’s go,” Lola replied, jacket on her arm and a bag slung across her body. Irina snatched up the keys from the front and tossed them to Lola, who slipped them smoothly into her bag. “I’m so slick,” Lola said, bumping her shoulder into Irina’s.

“I think you’ll find that I’m the spy here,” Irina said.

“Yeah, but where would you be without me?”

Irina looked up, pretending to think, “In a 5 star hotel. With constant room service. And a bucket of ice with an old bottle of wine.”

“Okay, but this is Vancouver. You’ll get maple syrup soda and toy moose,” Lola said.

They were now walking down a street not far from the bar they were going to and on the other side of the road there was a group of girls dressed up in hot pink, they held empty shot glasses in their hands and had feather boas wrapped around their necks. 

“I swear to god, if those flouncy girls are in this new bar I’m going home, ” Lola said, throwing suspicious looks in their direction.

Irina raised an eyebrow. “When did you become such a bore?”

Irina and Lola arrived at the bar, it had a bright and warm atmosphere, they sat at a table and ordered drinks. They spent a few hours there, chatting and getting slightly tipsy with other customers. It was a comfortable and down-to-earth place, but soon enough Irina checked the time on her watch and decided it was getting late, she had errands to run in the morning and although she could just about hold her own against alcohol, anymore and she would wake up with a hangover. 

She glanced at Lola who was sipping a vodka martini. Lola put the glass down and picked up the olive before popping it off the cocktail stick and started chewing it.

“God, I love olives,” she said loudly, “We have to get a jar on the way back!”

Irina laughed and asked, “Okay, you wanna go now?” 

Lola looked appalled at the suggestion, but then looked at her near-empty drink resignedly, “Yeah, all right.” She downed the rest and looped her arm though Irina’s. They said goodbye the barman and the other people they were friendly with.

They walked together down the pavement under orange streetlights. Lola was beginning to enter the sleepy stage of being drunk and her head was resting on Irina’s shoulder, it helped that Irina was a few inches taller than her and that she was in heels, nice ones at that. 

They walked for a few minutes and took turns down roads in the direction of Lola’s apartment before Irina felt someone behind them, and heard a faint shuffling. 

Irina looked back and quietly muttered to Lola, "Hey, turn in here," she gestured to a dark doorway, "and take off your jacket." 

She shrugged off her own and switched quickly. Lola looked at her oddly but did as she was told. 

There was a low urgent tone in Irina's voice. "Keep walking on," Irina commanded. 

Lola frowned but strolled sluggishly forward in the direction they were going in. Irina stood still in the covered area for a few moments and peered down the street they had come from. 

There was a man closing up on Lola's path, he was in a baseball cap, dark jacket and black jeans. Soon enough he was two feet away from Irina’s grasp. She jumped. 

Catching him by surprise, he yelped but didn’t fight back. She took his wrist in one hand and then struck down with her elbow onto his. He cried out and she twisted the same arm around his back.

"Who. Are. You." She growled out. Each word was punctuated with a slam of his body against the brick wall as Irina gripped him tight at his collar.

At this point Lola stopped walking away and had rushed towards the scene. She was taken back from the commotion. “What the fuck?” she said in a high voice, now standing a couple of feet from the pair. She was very much sober now.

Irina turned to look at her for a short second before going back to dealing with the victim at her mercy.

Lola narrowed her eyes and said, “I maintain: what the fuck?”

Irina tightened her grip on his arm, making him whimper. “He was following us, I noticed a few streets back.”

“What do you mean he was ‘following us’?” Lola said incredulously, “he could literally just be some guy going home. Can’t believe this is happening,” she rubbed her forehead, “Can you find out if he’s was gonna kill us or what?”

Irina just gave her a look and said, “What do think I was doing?” She waved her free hand at him. He groaned. 

She shoved him against the wall harder. “Who are you?” she asked again, “Where are you from?”

He didn’t answer. So Irina flipped out a knife out of her boot and looped her arm around his neck, pressing deeply on his jugular.

The man gave another whimper but still didn’t say anything. Irina removed the knife from his neck and instead embedded it in the front of his right shoulder. He shouted out in pain and began crying. As he was sobbing he tried to prevent his body moving because it cause him to flinch violently. By trying to stop himself writhing in agony, he made snot come dribbling out of his nose. 

Lola yelped when the knife went in, “Ah, gahd!” Not expecting Irina to move so suddenly. However she had started cringing as she said, “Oh, look at him, he’s crying now. He’s ugly crying.”

Irina rolled her eyes but inwardly agreed with Lola. The guy wasn’t much in terms of espionage but he definitely wasn’t a regular civilian. Irina could tell. She knew these kind of things. 

“Yeah, he just completely lost his shit, right?” Irina asked casually, just before twisting the blade slightly, side to side. 

“Argh! All right, all right!” the man forced out. “The Scarvos, I’m a Scarvo,” he finally choked. 

“Wow, he really doesn’t know how to withstand torture, not even severe stuff,” Lola said, know she could probably hold her own for longer than he did. She asked, “Who are the Scarvos?”

Irina glowered and the back of the man’s head, “Italian-Russian mob, there’s a family made from the two counties, a marriage, an alliance if you will, back in the 80s. And they’ve been working together ever since.”

Irina gave a quick glance to Lola to check on her, she was freaking out a little internally but she would be okay. She turned back to the member of the Scarvo mob and said, “The Bratva aren’t afflicted with your group but they keep track, and they’ll want to know why you’re following me, I’m on good terms with them.” 

Rapidly, Irina sheathed her blade and flipped the man on his back, earning her a small screech from him. “You still haven’t told us who you are and your purpose is with us.” 

He stuttered but didn’t say anything else, Irina sighed and said, “Lola, pat him down.”

“What? Why do I have to do it?” she asked, not particularly wanting to go near the mobster.

“Because I’m the one holding him down. This is why you don’t go in the field, and also why you’re never partnered with me.”

Lola glared at Irina who was half smiling, and steeled herself and then knelt down, patting his trainers and his jeans, before searching through his jacket. The only weapon she found was the glock in back of his waistband. 

“Honestly, what kind of member of a mob are you? Is this what you call armed?” Irina asked him, trying to get a rise out of him. 

The guy grunted and kept his head down. Irina pinched him by the nose and forced him to look into her eyes. His breathing began to change and Lola lightly slapped his cheek and said, “Hey, answer the question, and yes we’re both bad cops. There are no good cops here.” 

The dim light in the alleyway covered the fear in his face. He said quickly, “My brother got me in, I didn’t want to die, so his friend in the Bratva got him into Scarvo and now I can’t get out.” He gave a hiccuped sob. 

Irina’s phone buzzed, she checked the message and put it away. Then she drew back and stopped for a moment, and swung hard, knocking him out. He crumpled to the ground in a wet lump.

Lola looked surprised for a hot minute but shrugged and nudged his ankles with her heel. “Eh, he’ll be alright,” she said offhandedly.

“Yeah,” Irina said in agreement, “Come on, we need to leave.”

She linked arms with Lola and they started in the direction of the apartment, with only the humming street lights shining on the pavement as company.


	3. Base of Operations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn't been proof read or edited, so sorry for any mistakes and feel free to comment. Also if you like it please leave kudos.

The next day Irina finished packing her bag, she started the night before when they had gotten back to Lola’s apartment. And now she was in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal and Lola’s laptop.

Lola herself shuffled in, she pushed her hair back with one hand and reached for the coffee pot with the other. She poured herself a mug and turned around to face Irina.

She squinted at her and lowered the mug away from her mouth and mumbled, “Is that my mac?”

“Yeah,” Irina said and continued typing.

Lola shrugged and asked, “You make any food?” She tightened her bathrobe, “What you doing anyway?”

“No, and nothing much,” Irina answered. Lola leaned over the kitchen island, her eyes widened.

“Hey, that better not be what I think it is,” she said warningly. Irina didn’t say anything. “I don’t care who your contact is, they could be the best in the business but that doesn’t mean you can chat to them on some secret dark web.”

“Are you done?” Irina asked patiently, “You’re the one who works in tech, don’t tell me you’ve never done anything you shouldn't have.” Lola spluttered. “I’m checking up on some things and some people, just to see if they’re behaving,” Irina said and then took another spoonful.

“Okay, fine but don’t leave any traces that someone would track,” Lola said before opening a cupboard and rummaging around for some flour, sugar and baking powder. She put it the counter and then opened the fridge. Lola took out milk, eggs and butter, and then began setting up.

Irina was halfway through her cereal and had finished scrubbing her digital fingerprints from Lola’s laptop. She lowered the lid after hearing the clutter that was going on around her, she scanned the counter and had a terrible nagging feeling in her stomach. “Lola..” she said, “what are you making?”

Lola grinned from where she was standing, her hand continually whisking the contents of the large mixing bowl. “Pancakes,” she said brightly.

“Oh no,” Irina said, with a crestfallen look on her face, her worst suspicions were confirmed. Lola wasn’t exactly a bad cook or baker altogether but when it specifically came to pancakes she could never get it right and every time it ended with a disaster. And Lola was still in denial.

“What? It’ll be fine. I swear,” she said, repeating what she had said a few months back. “I saw your bag over there and thought ‘you know what, Irina might appreciate a nice parting gift of my carb filled goodness’, but no you don’t. Well, you’re gonna eat anyway!” Lola dragged the cereal bowl away from her and put it in the sink.

Irina rolled her eyes but stayed put anyway. She logged into her Netflix account as she said, “Yeah, about that, I was going to tell you this morning. I’m going to head out soon, and report back to the base here.”

Turning the stove on Lola said, “Yeah, that’s fine, you idiot. I know you only stay for a little while because the super secret spy thing with you being out in the field all the time.” Lola turned back to the stove and started pouring in the batter.

Irina smiled and poured herself some coffee before going back into Lola’s laptop. She pulled up an old episode of Grey’s Anatomy, turned the laptop around and upped the volume.

Lola gasped and said “Yes! This is why you’re the best.” She grinned and carried on making pancakes.

By the time the episode ended Lola had made a batch of oddly shaped, some raw and some over cooked, pancakes. At this point Irina had eaten a few of the more edible ones and collected her duffle bag from her room and put it on the stool beside her.

They were both dressed now, Irina in standard issue navy long sleeved shirt and black cargo pants, and Lola in civilian clothing, blue jeans and a thin sweater.

Lola took two water bottles from the cupboard and put then in Irina’s bag. She then closed plastic food containers, the first held some pancakes on some baking parchment, and the second had a simple lunch, sandwich and some extras. Lola went over to Irina who was double checking some things and pushed the containers into her field of vision.

“Here,” Lola said, “take these with you.”

Irina replied with, “Lola..”

“Just take them, otherwise you’ll have to eat the crap they have at the cafeteria.”  

The cafeteria wasn’t actually that bad but Irina took the boxes and said, “Thanks, it means a lot.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing. Hurry up before you’re late. You need me to take you?” Lola asked as she picked up a tea towel to finish drying up.

She shook her head, “No, I called for a taxi.” Irina put the containers away into her bag, she stepped forward to hug Lola and said, “Thanks for everything, I’ll see you soon.”

Lola returned the sentiment, “Yeah, and stay safe.”

Irina was nearly out the door and called out, “Bye!” Lola waved her tea towel back.

Irina shut the door and made her way to outside the apartments, and then leaned against the brick wall: waiting.

The taxi arrived a few minutes later, she climbed in and put her bag down next to her. As she pulled on her seatbelt the driver asked, “Where to, sweetheart?”

She gave the address for the Vancouver base, he raised his eyebrows but only said, “All right.”

The driver pulled off the side of the road and turned up the low background music, the radio was playing some pop song that she was vaguely familiar with. Lola probably would have known and sung along if she were there.

Irina settled in her seat and stared outside the window to her right. She kept a constant eye on the driver, but it still somewhat drowned out as she watched the people and the buildings pass by. The song changed to a slower ballad.

They stopped at traffic lights a few minutes later and Irina looked on a family that were hanging out on the other side of the glass. A mother in her 30s was handing her toddler a small ice cream and then quickly took out a napkin from her jean pocket and dabbed the mouth of her other young child. The mother looked tired, but in a normal civilian way, where she would never have to worry about her children being used as targets by her enemies for emotional extortion. Or worrying about danger towards them.

The thought passed as the lights turned to green and the car set off again.

She ran a hand through her hair as her gaze flickered to the driver and his environment. There was a rosary hanging on the rear view mirror and a few empty crumpled water bottles around the cup holders. He was humming along to the song now, clearly tired but he it didn’t put a damper on his mood. His light persona wasn’t a mask, she studied him for a moment and saw that he was genuinely untroubled.  

He kept on driving until they reached the turning circle outside of the building. She gave him the money for the ride as they exchanged pleasantries. Irina got out of the car and slung her bag over her shoulder, taking care over the food inside.

She stepped through the automatic doors and immediately there was the assistant from earlier there to greet her. Emma, if Irina’s memory was correct, and it was.

“Good morning, Agent Surikova,” Emma said, “If you would show him your badge, please.” She gestured to the guard, who was in reality a Level 1 agent, to the left of Emma sitting at the desk.

Irina only inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement and scanned in her ID. Once she was cleared a moment later, she then walked behind the assistant in silence. They went down the corridor and they stopped at an elevator where Emma pressed the side button, and after waiting a very short while the doors pinged open. Three other agents in standard suits shuffled out, and they entered. Emma ran in her own ID and pushed in a number, she stood closer towards the doors while Irina was again behind her.

There was music being played again, this time through speakers in the roof of the elevator box. It was something worse than the pop songs in the taxi ride. The odd feeling that elevators gave her passed quickly as Irina stepped out of the elevator when it came to a stop a minute later. Emma came out first and then Irina as she followed, they were now on a higher floor.

Irina was lead to a room where the door was already open to reveal Agent Belovna.

“You’re going to Italy,” said Agent Belovna as she slapped down two files. “Milan to be exact.”

Irina felt some relief, she knew she wasn’t supposed to have opinion over where she was deployed for missions but this time it would at least be somewhere that had less chances of running into mobster or gang members. Not that she couldn’t deal with them, but she needed a break from all the shit she had been dealing with. It was also Lola’s favourite place to shop.

Even with how she was feeling internally, externally her face didn’t show anything, it remained a neutral canvas. In response to the news she simply nodded and slid the files towards herself.

“You’re going to investigate covertly, and you’re target is Rowan Avery. He’s a big shot CEO for a company that has its fingers in all sorts of pies,” Agent Belovna explained.

“Going out on a limb here, but are one of these pies involved in something illegal?” Irina asked. She had begun skim reading through the first file, larger than the second. It seemed as if Avery had been doing philanthropic work alongside other suspected side projects.

“Yes, that’s why we have been interested in him for the last few years. He wasn’t much of a problem before but his reputation and company is growing. This is where you come in, open the other file,” Agent Belovna instructed. “In it is your cover.”

Irina opened it and read through the first page. She would be Sara Lovera, a heiress of old money parents and grandparents. Sara Lovera was the fiancee of another rich socialite, Stefan Moretti, and both in their late 20s, only a few years younger than her actual age. Her occupation and work was limited, she volunteered at high end boutiques and other fashion industry related businesses or companies, the list went on for half a page. She also did charity work with her fiance, and on paper the alias seemed perfect.

“Who’s going to be my partner on this?” Irina asked, the first few pages described Lovera and the cover in detail, but it only mentioned the fiance part a few times. “Shouldn’t they be here as well?”

“He’s currently finishing up on a mission in Prague,” she replied, “It’s Agent Clark Poole.”

“Fucking Poole is the one on this mission,” Irina exclaimed, she looked pissed. He had done some shitty things in the past that she didn’t want to think about.

Agent Belovna sighed and said, “Yes, it’s him. Turn to the last page, there's more information on his cover. He’ll be arriving later today to meet you and then the both of you will leave at 1600 hours and on a regular civilian plane. And, yes, first class to fit in with your aliases. ”

Irina gritted her teeth but followed the command. However, even with the annoyance of Agent Poole, they would be flying first class, and in her line of business operatives could die at any time on missions, so there was a general understanding of living well while you could live.

There were simple additional points on their roles on the last pages.

“You handler will be Agent Harvey, and he will give you more details when you get there, but your main aim is to observe and not engage unless you are told to. It hopefully won’t be a long mission as this week Avery has parties and galas with guests from some of probably the most high-risk and unpredictable heads of companies and families,” Agent Belovna said as Irina read through the rest of the file,

Irina looked up and pointed out, “So we’re baby sitting.”

“We want you to keep an eye on these dangerous people, and intercept if necessary,” she replied.

“Are we done?” Irina asked, the words were edging on rude but her tone and eyes stayed neutral and calm.

“Yeah, we are. You can keep the files and you know where to get gear or anything if you need to,” Agent Belovna said as she watched Irina pack up and then make her way to the door.

Irina was about to close the door and said, “Thanks.” Agent Belovna only nodded.

Walking down the corridor she headed in the direction of the elevator, and after listening to the awful music inside she stopped at the level below the ground floor.

The doors opened to reveal a lab. A bloody huge lab. There were people milling about, glass walls and doors separating the different areas that people were working on.

Irina took slow steps into the organised chaos. A few friendly workers turned their heads to flash a quick smile before returning to their focus.

She took a few steps further into the labs and immediately a young boffin introduced himself.

“Hi! I’m Agent Ellis, but you can call me Quentin. You must be Agent Surikova, we were told to expect you. How are you today? Is there anything you might need? Weapons, clothing, specialist equipment, toys?” the kid said in a rapidly in a strong northern yorkshire accent.

Irina blinked but then said, “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. I need, uh, a Glock with spare mags. I’m going to need some knives, ones I can conceal on clothing and ones that aren’t so covert.”

They were now walking into an open corridor, with Quentin leading and he said, “Easy, done. Let’s head in here.”

Then they entered a room with all types of side arms, sniper rifles, knives and daggers lined along the walls. There were people working, testing and recording the weapons, and there was a glass door that revealed an even larger indoor gun range and area to throw knives that the department designed.

“So, uh, this is all the slightly dangerous stuff. The more dangerous stuff is in the other side of the walkway,” he said.

Quentin began to guide her around the room, pointing at different things on the walls and giving a short explanation. Soon enough they got around to the half wall lined with Glocks, Quentin picked out two and put magazines in them.

He handed them to her and said, “Choose one.”

She looked up from the guns in her hands and said, “the 22.” She handed the Glock 17 back before even assessing them.

“Cool. Okay, next line of business,” he said as he put the other gun back in place. “Oh, and here are some holsters.” He gave her a thigh holster for knives and another for the Glock, the other holster was one for her waistband, which she strapped on straight away and put the gun away.

Moving to the other side of the room they reached the case of knives, there was an impressive range, from chinese ring daggers to standard issue switchblades.

He slotted a key into the lock and twisted it to open the glass case. “Here, take your pick,” he said as he waved a hand at them.

She selected a few after some consideration, she pocketed and holstered them away. “These are nice,” she said in admiration.

“I know, right?,” he said grinning. “Come on, let’s move.”

Quentin lead them out of the weapons lab and into the room on the other side of the corridor.

He turned to her and said, “Oh, and you can totally keep that switchblade and Glock, more where those came from. And now this is the place where we kit agents out with like any and all clothes they might need, such as bullet proof stuff or even just clothes that will have space to hold things. We can also get you another bag if you want.” He pointed to the duffle bag she was still carrying.

“Uh, yeah. Okay, thanks,” she said, Irina didn’t feel like disagreeing with the kid, not when he was being so pleasant to her, he was also going straight to business, no silly questions. It was something she liked in people.

“That’s great,” he replied as he showed her a range of larger bags. Irina didn’t spend a long time choosing and just grabbed one that she saw fit.

As she transferred her belongings into the new navy bag, including the food Lola had packed. She folded up her other bag and put it in as well.

While she was doing this Quentin was on his tablet, checking on business, when Irina was done he said, “Come with me,” and then guided her to a smaller area in the corner of the very large room filled with clothing and costumes.

In the corner there were racks upon racks of even more standard issue shirts, jackets, trousers and shoes. “Yeah, so take anything you need. And where are you going then? They only kit agents out with all this if it’s fancy op,” he inquired.

Irina said, “Milan.” She didn’t give any other details as the mission was probably above his security level. She also didn’t take much from there, just another long sleeved shirt and black cargo pants.

They quickly moved onto the next section of her much needed wardrobe. Irina took one look at the clothes and scrubbed a hand over her face and sighed.

“So, you’re gonna have to get stuff from here. Got to be suitable for Milan. Which is why... ” he said, and then pulled out a medium sized flowery suitcase out of literally nowhere, “you are going to be taking this with you.”

He propped it on a chair while she sighed again, and began looking through the endless racks of dresses, blouses, jewelry and so much more.

In the end it took a torturous hour to fill the suitcase with everything a rich young women in Italy might have. There were times that Irina had been tortured that were a lot more bearable than the experience in the clothing room.

“Okay, I think we are done here. Oh, it’s fine, you can leave that. It will be sent off to wherever you’re staying at,” Quentin said, they made their way out of the room and back into the corridor.

The both of them left the area they were around and headed back towards the direction they came from but then took a turn down another, this time, darker corridor into a new lab.

This time everything was more… tech-y. Machines and whirring cleanup robots wheeled around, there were people working at different stations, and it had a whole cleaner and less government suits atmosphere to it.

Quentin whizzed right into the lab and grabbed handful devices before stopping in front of Irina who was now slowly wandering around the work desks and stations.

He began to give some information about the lab as they went to an empty worktop. “This is where the Mousehole was being developed in its later stages. I’m quite proud to say that since I’m mainly centred in this department,” he said beaming at her. He laid out all the things in his arms and said, “Anyway, let’s go through this.”

“Sure,” she said as she put her bag down on the floor.

“Right. This is just your regular comms, shouldn’t be a problem,” Quentin said as he held up the small inner ear comms, he handed it over. “And here are some fancy reading glasses, which you don’t need because you have twenty-twenty vision, but they’re special and are basically x-ray glasses, just press that little silver button in the corner. So cool, my mate from the academy made them, now they are everywhere.”

He also gave those, and she put them on. Irina looked around the room, and Quentin was right, they were pretty cool. She put it away in the side of the bag for safe keeping.

He moved on to the next bits of tech, and pushed forward a few velvet pouches. He opened one, tipped the contents into his the palm of his hand and inspected it. “This is might look like it’s just another fancy broach you might wear to an expensive restaurant but it is actually a camera pin, see, just there, and it’s in the shape of a rose.”

The broach was slipped back into the small bag and then secured with strings being tightened. He picked up the other one and pulled out a sparkly necklace, he lifted it up to the light and then said, “This pretty thing is a recording device. Small, I know, but it will do the job.”

She put out an open hand and he lowered it in. The necklace was silver with another flower pendant at the end. She slid the necklace back into the bag and put both of them away in her larger duffle.

“They’re nice,” Irina said mildly. It was true, they were gorgeous but generally not her style. Her style was more combat boots and decent bourbon.

“Yeah, well, I guess they would fit in with the whole fashion scene thing in Milan,” he said smiling widely at her.

Quentin startled as he quickly said, “Oh! And I almost forgot,” he walked over to a set of metal drawers behind him, inserted a key and took something out, and slammed it shut. He came back with the object in his hand and put it on the table.

He opened up the roll and declared, “A set of lock picks. I mean, you probably have a set of your own but these are good and it’s useful to have spare.”

Irina did have her own but he made some good points so she took it into her care. She had a quick look at the picks and saw there were a few tension wrenches and a long row of picks at different sizes.

“Okay, I think we’re done here. Let’s head out,” he said and made a motion for her to follow.

Irina grabbed her duffle bag from the floor, with all her new tech, and walked beside Quentin. And soon enough they reached the small area near in front of the elevator.

“Thanks for everything,” she said, and use one hand to gesture at her bag.

“No probs, you’re welcome back any time,” he smiled at her, and then lifted his tablet and said, “well, I’ve got to run now, but see you.”

Quentin was stepping away now and Irina nodded in return. She pressed the button for the elevator and waited. When it opened a couple of people came out in white lab coats, and in the elevator she ran her badge and chose the second floor. Arriving there she headed to the cafeteria.

It was just passed 1pm now, with everything in the labs taking all morning, and it also meant that the cafeteria was busy with agents eating and chatting to each other, she could hear the commotion before even entering.

It was just like any other cafeteria around, except food served was usually better and actually more nutritious, and staff were friendly which was a bonus. Irina walked in through a set of double doors and halted for a moment. She went over to the cutlery, picked up a fork and then walked to an empty table near the windows. Putting her bag on the round table she took out one of the tuppence wear boxes that Lola had packed a lunch in and plopped her bag onto the surprisingly clean floor.

She lifted open the lid to see what was inside, and then saw it was a sandwich, she took a bite. It was PB and J. Of course it was.

She shot a text to Lola, saying ‘ _Hey, thanks for the lunch. I’m leaving for Milan later today. Tell no one, it’s probably classified’._

Irina was almost finished with her food when she looked up from scrolling websites on strange deaths, she saw Agent Clark Poole standing near the doors, he was looking around but when he spotted Irina he smirked and make his way towards her. More like arrogantly swaggered.

Irina sighed heavily and clicked on the lid of the lunch box. Poole pulled out a chair, it scraped loudly on the floor, and sat down opposite her. He still had a stupid smile on his face.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked. Irina knew she would have to spend the rest of the week with him on a mission cozy-ing it up, but was the rest of the afternoon too must to ask?  

He rested his chin on his hand and said, “They told me. And call me Clark, Irina. After all you’re going to be right next to me for days and days.”

“Who told you?” she asked as she put the rest of her lunch in her duffle bag.

“People told me.”

Irina rolled her eyes and so he said, “It’s a place full of spies, what do you expect?”

She knew that, obviously, and asked, “What are you doing here then? Couldn’t you have gone anywhere else? Literally anywhere?”

“Aw. Are you trying to get rid of me? I’m here visiting you, thought I would see how you are doing on this beautiful day,” Clark said while staring out the large window. Staring at the sunny sky and rooftop gardens on top of the garage outer building.

“I’m sure. Now why don’t you go get some food, huh?” she said and then took a swing from her bottle of water.

“You know what? I will. And I’ll be right back, don’t you worry,” he said standing up and taking his wallet out of his jacket.

He walked off and stood in line, he chatted with the other agents and staff queueing up as well, they all seem so… friendly.

Taking up her phone again she went back to scrolling because she couldn’t be bothered to watch the scene happening before her.

Lola had texted her back, it read, ‘ _It’s good, I know. Only thing I can totally perfect. Safe travels_ ’

However, before she knew it he returned in a matter of minutes, and sensing someone coming she looked up again.

“That was a fairly long line. How’d you get through it so fast? Were they tired of putting up with you so they pushed you out as soon as possible?” Irina asked somewhat irritated, her few moments of peace didn't last long. She slipped her phone into her pocket once more.

He had a tray of food with him and he was getting started on the pasta as he replied, “Nah, they love me, even gave me extra, see?”

Irina looked on and made a face. He was pretty much shovelling it in now. “I hope that’s not how you’re going to behave in the mission.”

“Of course not. That reminds me, where are we going then? Somewhere warm I hope,” Clark said, “last mission was a bit of a bitch, cold everywhere.”

“Milan. Why don’t you go to debrief then?” she asked. Irina just wanted him gone already. Inwardly her nerves were getting set on edge, but on her face it didn’t show.

He smiled with a cheekful of crushed food. He said, “Oh, I will. But tell me, how’s your love life, hm?”

“Private.”

He just raised his eyebrows not saying anything. They sat in silence after that, with him eating and her watching the agents around them.

As Clark finished he opened his bottle of water and chugged down half. He then said, “You know what? I’m in the mood for some dessert, what do you think? I mean, I think I saw some jello cups up there.”

Then, a thought struck Irina, and she said, “Hold up.” She reached into her bag, as he watched curiously on what she would do and he probably thought she might shoot him or something, but she fished out the other plastic box after some digging, and put it on the table.

“What’s this?” he asked slightly confused.

She opened it and said, “Pancakes.”

Irina hoped that this would limit the time that he spent in the cafeteria with her. However she felt somewhat guilty for giving up Lola’s pancakes to this asshat. And Irina also knew that she had regressed to name calling, but he wouldn’t go away.

“Whoa, thanks,” he said surprised, but took it gratefully and gracefully.

She felt dirty even just being kind to him, but she handed him the fork she never got to use and said,“Yeah, okay. Can you quickly finish and go then?”

“Sure, you got it,” he said pointing at her with the fork.

“No. I’m good,” she said with even more guilt kicking in.

He just shrugged and carried on. But eventually, after what felt like hours, he said, “All right. I’m done here, thanks for this. I’m gonna go get debriefed by.. Who is it again?”

“Agent Belovna, go ask for her assistant Emma at the front desk,” Irina said as she slid the empty box towards her.

Clark stood up and took his tray with him as he left, “See you later.” He nodded in her direction.

Finally he was gone, at least for the next two hours. It was only around 2pm and so Irina had another hour and a bit to spare, so she stayed in the cafeteria for a little while watching the amount of people dwindle down and the noise from before becoming quiet talking in the background.

There were people she recognised from odd jobs and other missions milling around, they all seemed so alive. And it was like she wasn’t even in her own body, just an observer of events. Of course if she said anything about this feeling to anyone in psych she would never leave the ward.

Soon enough she felt like it was finally time to get moving, she packed up her stuff and slung her bag over her shoulder. Irina left through the same double doors but then headed for the staircase this time and then headed to the level above. Then once she got into the corridor she went for the large changing rooms, the ones with the good lockers.

Picking one at random she popped it open and then dropped the duffle onto the bench in between rows of lockers. She unzipped it, taking out the boxes, and then looked for a bin. Finding one she went over and tipped what was left into it, and then put it into the locker. Slamming the locker door shut Irina took out her phone and texted Lola, explaining how she had left the empty boxes in that room and in that specific locker number.

She changed into clothes suitable for a fight for her cover, Sara Lovera. Irina was now wearing sleek navy dress pants and floral v-neck top, with gold jewelry to match, and her regular clothes were stuffed in her bag. She looked at her bag in a melancholy way, the next couple of days would be with flashy, expensive and designer everything.

At this point Irina was bored beyond words. She huffed as she sat down next to her duffle.

 

Later on Irina left the gym where she was talking with some young cadets and giving them advice. She took the elevator down to the ground floor and then out to the garage where Clark was waiting for her leaning on a Range Rover. He was in a casual but smart grey suit, swinging the keys in his hand.

She walked towards him and readjusted her bag over her shoulder.

“So you wanna drive or what?” he asked. She relied and then threw the keys at her. She caught them and hopped into the driver's seat while Clark walked around to the passengers. Irina chucked her bag into the back seats and started the ignition.

As she pulled out of the large garage Clarke turned on the radio and flipped through the stations before settling on some oldies one. Irina raised her eyebrows when he looked over at her, he just shrugged and cracked open his window some.

Irina was just glad that they weren’t actively talking, and it was a short drive anyway straight to the landing strip. They got there within minutes, and Irina was feeling somewhat giddy, not for being in the same company with Agent Poole, but for going to Milan since surprisingly she had never been before. Where, when the arrived, they weren’t forced to go through the extensive procedures of  airport security and simply flashed their badges.

At the bottom of the steps to board the plane they were both greeted by another agent. He was young, maybe in his late 20s and had sandy blond hair, and he wore an off the rack suit, without the tie, and had a medium sized carry on bag.

“Hi, I’m Agent Adam Cole,” he said as he brought up his ID, “and I’ll be running tech support for you two.”

Clark grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder, “That’s great, nice to see you again. On that mission in Stuttgart, yeah? Now hop on board like a good agent.”

Agent Cole didn’t say anything but shuffled onto the steps just as he was told, and led the way onto the front of the plane. It meant first class, and separation from Clark. She hadn’t made an assessment of the new agent she had just met but he hadn’t done anything yet to alter her opinion of him. However, so far, he just seemed like a slightly nervous kid getting on a giant flying metal tube with at least two assassins.

Once they were on board they were greeted and offered refreshments, Irina chose a seat at random and then took the complimentary champagne as it was going to be a long flight and it wasn’t like she could handle 13 hours sober. She had already finished the glass before even taking off, and had requested the rest of the bottle, Clark hadn’t gotten anything alcoholic. His loss.

The flight attendant began explaining exits and other emergency procedures before the seat belt sign started flashing and the ping of it sounded. The plane rumbled as it started moving, Irina closed her eyes and leaned back into her seat. Then, once they reached the clouds and had gained altitude, she flashed open her eyes and took a sip of her champagne.

Spies and alcohol went hand in hand. 

There was a 9 hour time difference between Vancouver and Milan, which meant jet lag for most people but she was so used to changing time zones that it didn’t really bother her anymore.

It was going to be a long flight so she settled in for the ride. 


End file.
